


The Sum of Our Hawkes

by TheWriterChaotic



Series: The Tales of the Champions [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Multiple Selves, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5002135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterChaotic/pseuds/TheWriterChaotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tales of the Champion vary in multiple ways, thanks to their actions. What would happen if a few of them were to meet up for drinks at the Hanged Man after the final showdown?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sum of Our Hawkes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure many readers have multiple Champions that they have played and loved. Maybe some even have played and nearly regretted. This is what I think would happen if six of my finished Hawkes were to meet, my favorites and my regrets.
> 
> Note that their setting is somewhat AU, seeing as Hawke naturally would not meet their parallel versions of himself or herself.
> 
> Enjoy!

Clove Hawke opened the door to the Hanged Man. She had no idea what may be behind it: after the Chantry explosion and the defeat of Meredith, she hardly expected the bar to be open. There was no sound of raucous laughter, no mugs clinking, no drunks yelling to a bar maid. In fact, the bar was empty, save for Corff behind the counter. Her boots made an echo as she walked over to him, and she noted that the floor was clean: no sawdust or bloodstains. It was unsettling.

“Corff,” she greeted as she approached the bar, “I’m surprised you opened.” 

Corff shrugged and pulled out a clean mug from behind the counter. 

“Why not? People will be milling in at some point or another. Still early, you know,” Corff said. He filled the mug with a light ale, foam just hitting the brim. 

“Here you are, Champion. I’ll get you some more as the guests arrive,” Corff said, missing the confused face directed at him. 

“Am I expecting company?” she asked.

“Well, yeah. Some sort of reunion, wasn’t it? For the aftermath and all,” Corff replied. The response only left Clove with more questions. She bit the inside of her cheek in annoyance and turned away from him.

Clove turned to the back of the room and considered the tables. Her eyes landed on the one just to the left of the counter, partially hidden and still in view of the door. Clove made her way towards it, deciding on sitting with her back to the wall. Reunion, Corff said. Could it be her friends? She assumed that Fenris and Isabela made their way to Rivain or Antiva. Varric was somewhere in the Free Marches, she knew, and she had no idea where Merrill decided to live. She sipped her ale as she pondered.

The door to the Hanged Man shook, then pushed inwards. Clove looked up to see a slight woman walk in. Her hair was dark and cut severely over her shoulders, and when her gaze moved from Corff to Clove, Clove knew that this woman was one of the guests expected.

She didn’t speak to Corff. She simply stood there for a moment, watching Clove, taking in her appearance. Clove lifted her chin, defiant to the gaze. The woman’s dark eyes were wide in the sparse light, but Clove could see in that face a response to her challenge. She walked towards the table, head tilted in acknowledgement. Clove stood as she reached the table, hand out.

“Hello. I’m Clove Hawke. Were you expecting me?” Clove asked. The dark-haired woman looked a little surprised, but the expression was lost behind the bangs cut just over her brow.

“I believe I was. I’m Dahlia Hawke,” she replied, grasping Clove’s hand. Clove gasped a laugh, giving Dahlia’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go. She sat back on the bench, pulling the lapels of her suede jacket closer to her body.

“This explains how this place managed to survive the aftermath,” Clove mused, motioning to Corff. A mug was placed on the table as Dahlia maneuvered onto the bench across from Clove. The long chain of her necklace made light clinking noises as she made herself comfortable.

“I believe we have a few people coming here tonight,” Dahlia said after a brief silence, “And I think it may be an interesting series of conversations.”  
“Yeah?” Clove said, taking a gulp of her drink. She eyed the door as it swung open, but it was only a patron she recognized from the time before. 

“Yes,” Dahlia replied. She placed her elbows on the table, her mug in her hands in front of her. She looked strained, the tendons in her neck moving. Clove recognized the tick as one of her own. She leaned in, catching Dahlia’s eyes with a smile of goodwill.

“Something on your mind already?” Clove asked, noting the pallor of the rogue’s face. Dahlia looked to be nearly sweating.

As if hearing her thought, Dahlia swiped a hand under her bangs, pushing them back from her brow.

“I didn’t understand why I was so convinced that I had to make one last trip to this place, but…” Dahlia paused, breathing slowly through her mouth, “… now I know why. Reflection.”

“Reflection?” Clove snorted. Reflection on what? Their actions on Kirkwall? She could not imagine anything she had done would be much different from any other Hawke that came through the door.

“It has to be,” Dahlia replied, aware of Clove’s disbelief and ignoring it, “Think of our opportunity here. Meeting each other? Who gets that chance to see what could have happened if we stayed a blade, if we made different choices?”

Clove pondered this. She didn’t have too many regrets; she went into Kirkwall penniless and knew that she needed to do whatever it took to get ahead for her family. For Dahlia to talk in this way suggests that maybe she didn’t handle her time well.

“What do you wish were different? Did you kill the wrong person? I imagine between the two of us, we would have killed at least a thousand –“ Clove trailed off, noting the stricken look on Dahlia’s face. “What? Tell me you didn’t kill during your time in Kirkwall.”

“No, I did,” Dahlia said. She shifted in her seat and flattened her hand over her bangs. She seemed to settle herself. “But there were choices that I’ve made that I’m not proud of. Things that still haunt me, even after I’ve made peace with my actions.”

They sat in silence for a while. A couple more patrons walked in, and as Clove moved to gesture towards one –it looked like one of the bad poets –Dahlia grabbed her arm.

“What happened to Anders in your world?” Dahlia asked. Clove knew immediately that Dahlia was referring to the moment the Chantry blew. Clove ripped her arm away. She eyed the pendant at the bottom of Dahlia’s gold chain. 

First talking about regret, then asking about Anders? Clove swallowed hard to keep the anger at bay. She looked down as she began answering.

“He fought with me to free the mages. I originally told him to go; I was so mad at him for keeping his plan a secret,” Clove said, swirling the ale at the bottom of her mug. Her eyes darted to the Chantry Sun swinging as Dahlia moved back.

“After,” Clove sighed, “I went with him to spread the word about the Gallows. We did that for a few years, building the resistance, but And’ starting having dreams of the song.” Cloves eyes moved up to Dahlia’s face as she spoke.

“The last time I saw him was in the Deep Roads. He gave me his mother’s pillow and told me to leave as soon as we saw an ogre.”

Clove motioned to Corff again, her hand sharp. Dahlia sat quietly. She looked away when Clove turned back to her.

“What about you? Did you spare Anders?” Clove asked, a bite entering her tone. “Or did you stab him in the back?”

Dahlia stayed silent, watching Clove. The warrior’s auburn hair was pulled away from her face. She looked severe, judging the silence. When Dahlia looked back into Clove’s eyes, she felt her resolve strengthen.

“I killed him,” she replied. Clove felt a dawning sense of horror. She clenched her mug.

“You killed –“ Clove started. She was interrupted by the sound of wood snapping as the door to the Hanged Man was kicked open. A hush fell over the bar, and the women looked towards the sound. Dahlia’s mouth fell open at the sight of the tallest, most vibrant looking man she had seen since her father. Now that she looked at him…

Clove eyed the redhead with a narrow gaze. The rogue’s declaration, voiced in such simple, curt terms, burned in her chest. She watched him close the door carefully and turn to Nora, apologizing with a grin. His facial hair was as bright as the hair on his head, framing a charming grin.

“Another Hawke,” Dahlia said. Clove watched her rise, turning to stand as the gentleman made his way over the table. There were more people than the last time Clove looked over the bar. Two patrons sat with their heads together near the front, both clutching their chests as they calmed from this Hawke’s entrance.

“Corff!” he called, smiling at the ladies before him, “Bring us your finest liquor, would you?” His hair was so red, nearly clashing with the fitted slacks and purple vest. He rolled the sleeves of his white button-down over his elbows, eyeing both woman with an incredulous half-smile.

“You know, in some way I’d say we’re all related. You both have my mother’s nose,” he said, balling his hands into fists and placing them on his hips. “Dear god, this little reunion is not some kind of bizarre _family_ reunion, is it? I don’t know if I can handle any more surprise cousins and illegitimate children of Gamlen. One was enough.”

Dahlia shook her head, smiling. She avoided looking to Clove, craning her neck to look into the man’s face.

“I’m guessing you must be a Hawke. I’m Dahlia,” Dahlia said. The gentleman nodded and looked to Clove. Clove crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall behind her.

“I’m Clove. Clove _Hawke_.”

“And I’m Elias. Well, now at least I have the confirmation that neither one of you are Gamlen’s daughters, “ Elias said, turning to Corff when a large bottle of whiskey was placed on the table with six glasses. 

Elias thanked Corff with a smile and eyed the label. Rye, hopefully from Rivain and not some sod’s basement. He popped open the top and poured himself a short glass. He looked to Dahlia, tipping the bottle towards her. She shook her head, looking past him to see more patrons coming in. He turned to Clove.

Clove sighed, motioning with a _‘go on’_ gesture.

“It’s barely early afternoon. You’re as bad as Isabela,” Clove groused, raising her glass to clink with Elias’. Elias smiled, the rim of the glass against his lips.

“Well, she and I got on very well. I’d say some of her habits may have rubbed off on me. Among other things,” he said before downing the amber liquid. He shook his head against the burn as Clove raised her eyebrows, eyes on her glass as she, too, downed her whiskey.

“Really? You and Isabela?” Dahlia asked, eyes wide. She could barely keep up with Isabela when they traveled together. Too brazen, too selfish. Dahlia peeked at Clove for her reaction. She looked about as flabbergasted as Dahlia felt.

Elias nodded, his hand steady as he filled his glass, then poured one for Dahlia. She hesitated, then pulled the glass towards her. Elias grinned.

“Yes. We weren’t romantically involved, as it were, but we were _involved_ ,” he started, placing the whiskey bottle in the middle of the table. “ She and I had a good thing between us, and it was a bit of a disappointment when she decided to sail off to Antiva, but there are no hard feelings.” He looked over to Clove, who was staring hard at her empty glass.

“Were you involved with any of our lovely companions, Champion?” Elias asked. The warrior huffed at the name, and her smile looked stretched. She turned her eyes to Dahlia.

“Anders and I fell in love in our world,” she said. Dahlia looked back at her, eyes set. Elias looked between the two women. The amount of hostility radiating from Clove was palpable. Clearly things have already been aired between them. Chances were, Dahlia took the mage out before the battle. He shifted his eyes between the two, then looked back to Clove.

“Anders? What was _that_ like?” Elias asked. Clove turned, eyes on Dahlia for a moment longer before turning to the man. She tried to rid herself of her anger, thinking back to the Warden mage.

“It was good. Exciting. I had never been with a mage before, and he made me laugh. More than anyone did, really. He was the reason I kept going. I felt…,” she paused, swallowing, “like he saved me,” she said. Elias nodded solemnly.

“I take it you went with him to his Calling then?” Elias asked. Clove looked surprised. “What? He survived in my world, too. I didn’t see him go, but I knew the moment his letters stopped that the time had come.” Clove nodded, her eyes back on her glass. Elias sighed.

“Here, love, have another drink. I wonder if anyone else showing up tonight had a loving relationship,” Elias mused. He poured Clove another glass and turned to Dahlia.

“What about you, then?” Elias asked. Dahlia guessed that he was going to ask, but the question still twisted her stomach. 

“Well, no… not quite,” Dahlia started. She glanced over to Clove. “I felt something for Fenris, but he and I didn’t see eye-to-eye. A lot happened in Kirkwall. Mother’s death…” Dahlia took a breath, eyes roving over the patrons, “…took its toll on me. I think that by the time I finally made my feelings known, our relationship was changed.”

Clove pursed her lips, then took a sip of her drink, relishing in the burn. She put her glass down and scoffed.

“Fenris wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with,” Clove said, looking to Elias with a smirk. “Were you two friends?”

“Me and Fenris? God, no,” Elias laughed, moving to sit next to Dahlia, his back to the table. He turned to address Clove. “We respected each other, surely. But we didn’t exactly play Diamondback in the same circles.” Dahlia sighed, grabbing her glass.

Elias nudged the rogue, raising his eyebrows.

“Did you pine for the prickly elf, Dahl’?” Elias asked, “Or did you move on to someone else?”

Dahlia paused. She made a motion to drink from her glass, then stopped when the rim touched her lips. Clove’s eyes flicked over to Elias; he looked intent, eyes the Chantry necklace around Dahlia’s neck.

“The Chantry brother?” Elias asked. 

“Who?” Clove asked. She didn’t remember anyone from the Chantry that she befriended.

“Sebastian,” Elias prompted. He propped his chin on his hand. Clove made a quizzical sound. Dahlia turned to Clove, then looked to Elias, shoulders tense. Clove huffed.

“I don’t remember a Chantry brother in my party,” Clove murmured, pouring another inch of whiskey in her glass. Elias looked at her in surprise.

“No? He was around in our worlds. The Prince of Starkhaven, sworn as a brother. He was quite conflicted, if I remember right,” Elias explained, turning back to Dahlia for confirmation. Dahlias nodded in agreement, eyes down.

“Well, then?” Clove asked, patience thinning, “Were you and this princely brother together?” 

Dahlia paused once more, then took a gulp of her drink.

“We were engaged,” the rogue gasped, coughing as the burn of the liquor took her breath. Elias whistled.

“Brothers and Sisters of the Chant can marry?” Clove asked. Dahlia nodded, taking a smaller sip. Elias made a sound of doubt.

“Hm, not in the fun sense we know,” he said. Dahlia stayed silent.

“So. I take it you never were friendly with the elf then,” Elias continued. Dahlia raked a hand through her hair, sighing.

“No. I look back on our time together, and I know now that we would never have worked out. I think he wound up liking Isabela more,” Dahlia said, voice low. She poured herself another glass. “Merrill and I didn’t get on well at all.”

“No?” Elias asked. Clove raised her eyebrows. Dahlia shook her head. Her gaze unfocused, and Elias caught Clove’s gaze.

“You killed her clan, didn’t you?” Clove asked, eyes narrowing. As if she needed another reason to dislike this Hawke. Dahlia shook her head, her dark hair hiding her eyes.

“Her clan survived. I didn’t help her out. What she was planning was dangerous, and I had to stop her, even if that meant she would hate me.”

“Yes, she used blood magic,” Elias started, “but she only used it when working on the Eluvian. She was careful.”

“She was being stupid!” Dahlia exclaimed, glaring at Elias before narrowing her eyes on Clove, incensed. “I suppose _you_ helped her make an ass out of herself, using blood magic like a fool and jeopardizing herself and everyone around her.” Clove bristled, rising from her seat.

“I saved her clan,” Clove growled, her voice escalating, “but I didn’t treat her like an idiot either. She knew the risks going in, and who are we to belittle her for her choices?”

“Her choices kill people,” Dahlia spat. Elias frowned, putting his hand between them on the table. 

“Alright lovelies, as much as I love debating the moral obscurities of blood magic, I think we’ve had enough of this,” Elias said, staring Clove down when she raised her fiery eyes to him. Dahlia leaned back, silent. Elias turned back toward the door.

“Besides, I think we have more Hawkes coming over, and it wouldn’t do to rip each other’s throats out before meeting them, yes?”

Clove looked past Elias’ shoulder to the throng of patrons behind him. Just above the group of men laughing uproariously, Clove could make out a tall woman trailing towards them. She looked a lot like mother, her eyes wide and concerned as she was lead to the table.

A yell of anger came over the bar, and Dahlia swiped the whiskey bottle and glasses off the table, jumping back as a man was sent sailing into the table. Elias barely twisted away in time, and Clove jumped up with an enraged cry, searching for the person who thought it was smart to start a fight. She could hear Corff shouting, his voice high and pleading.

“Maker, take you!” Clove roared, moving around the table. Fortunately, the rogue swiped the whiskey off the table, but there was still a near-empty mug of ale near her elbow, and the sleeve of her blazer was covered in the dregs. Clove shoved her jacket off and threw it on the bench, turning to approach the man who disrupted her night.

A short, dark male made like a tank marched forward, the tall woman Clove had seen before holding onto one of his shoulders. They were polar opposites, with her tall, svelte form and his shorter, more compact body. The man’s eyes were dark, and he scowled at the man passed out on the table. 

Clove pulled the unconscious man off the table and handed him to his friends, who were bowing and apologizing for disrupting the Champions’ night.

“No harm, gentleman,” Elias said, smiling. He looked over the two newcomers and to Clove, who settled down and sat back on the bench against the wall. “Well, come sit down, we were just getting started.”

“Do you know why we’re here, then?” the woman asked. She moved to sit on the other side of Dahlia, nodding a greeting to the woman. Elias chuckled.

“Not at all, but the longer I’m here, the more I consider this a bit of a heart-to-heart,” Elias said. He moved to shake her hand. “I’m Elias Hawke.”

The woman took his hand, tilting her head and smiling. “Pollyanna. Hawke. But I suppose that’s what is to be expected amongst our comrades?” she asked, green eyes trailing over them. The dark man huffed, crossing his arms. His muscles bulged, the sleeves of his leather jacket pulling over them.

“Really? We’re all going to _chat_?” he asked. His voice was gruff, but he stilled seemed interested in the group of them. He pulled off his jacket and sat next to Clove.

Dahlia placed the glasses back on the table, then twisted the bottle open and poured five drinks. Clove turned to give the man a pointed look.

“With an attitude like that, I’m guessing you weren’t very liked by your companions,” Clove commented. She gave him a smile that was all teeth. “I’m Clove.”

“Decebal,” the man grunted. He nodded his thanks to Dahlia and raised his glass. “You’d be surprised. Most of them weren’t uptight. Varric and I didn’t become friends, but he was professional enough. Anders and Sebastian, though…” He downed his whiskey. 

“Really?” Pollyanna asked, hand under her chin, “Varric is such a sweet heart though. As was Anders, not to mention a great healer. And he was funny! How could you not get along?”

Elias hummed in agreement. He grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and sat near Pollyanna. Decebal eyed the two, a sneer pulling at his lips.

“He was a crazed mage with a spirit possessing his body. Naturally I wouldn’t like him,” Decebal replied, ignoring Clove, who was bristling at his side. Elias made a soft noise.

“How did you feel about Merrill, if you didn’t approve of magic?” Elias asked. Decebal’s dark skin went dusky, but his eyes stayed on Elias. Dahlia leaned over to hear, and Clove kept herself from cuffing the hypocritical bastard over the head.

“We were together. She was… complicated,” Decebal answered. His eyes darted from Elias to Pollyanna. “I take it both of you are apostates.”

Elias and Pollyanna looked to each other. Small smiles crept over their features.

“Which school, Polly?” Elias asked. Pollyanna’s eyes flickered over to Decebal, gauging the look of contempt on the warrior’s face. She failed to mention that fact when they met at the entrance.

“Destruction, Force, and Arcane, you?”

“Force and Primal, for the most part,” Elias replied, eyes rolling back to Decebal. “We’re all Hawkes here. Of course we’re apostates.” Decebal frowned. Elias’ gaze hardened.

“I suppose, due to your instant mistrust to us fickle magic users, you sided with the Templars, didn’t you? Probably slit Anders’ throat, too, I imagine,” Elias said, grabbing a glass.

The table went silent. Dahlia watched the scene, more relieved than she expected to see another Hawke make the same decision she did. Clove leaned against the table, and Pollyanna’s eyes strayed to her drink. Decebal kept his eyes on Elias.

“I did. To both comments,” Decebal said, daring Elias to start a fight. For a moment, Clove was certain that the mage was going to. His ochre eyes were like two suns burning into Decebal. 

“Why?” Elias asked, his voice shaking. Decebal’s eyes wandered over the mage’s face, taking in the carefully concealed dismay pulling at his mouth and brow. He looked over to Pollyanna: her head was low, and her mouth was pursed.

“It had to be done,” Decebal said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard. Clove placed a hand on his shoulder. When he glanced at her from the side, she squeezed, giving him a light shake.

“Do you hate mages, Decebal?” It was Pollyanna who spoke, eyes clear and face set when he looked at her.

“I don’t _trust mages_ ,” Decebal answered, “but I’m learning.”

He did not explain further, finishing his drink in two swallows. Then he looked away, dropping the conversation. Pollyanna nudged Elias, who looked ready to continue arguing. Dahlia moved closer to refill Decebal’s glass.

“What was Merrill like?” Dahlia asked. A small smile crept over the warrior’s face, his rugged features softening.

“Kind. Took my crap. And very forgiving when it was all over,” he said. He turned to look at Elias. Elias’ brow was still set, but a grin began as he shook his head.

“I’m glad I’m not in your world, but I’m also glad you found someone to… temper you,” he said. Decebal nodded minutely. Elias raised his glass.

“Now, tell us all about Meredith and her secret, crazy ways. I don’t think any of us had the privilege,” Elias joked. Decebal chuckled.

“Very well, mage.”

“Oh Maker, not you, too!”

-

Hours went by as the Hawkes discussed their journeys, cheerfully and deviously comparing their quests one moment and solemnly dictating darker adventures in the next. Bottles and glasses littered their table, and an empty pitcher laid on its side. Elias was the first to spot it and grabbed it, pushing himself off the table. Pollyanna joined him on the short trip to the counter, chatting mildly about the different tastes of the elements she employed.

“I have to agree with Anders on his opinion of firestorms,” Pollyanna commented, catching Elias’ shirt when a drunken patron tried to push through her, “there is something about the pull of the spell that reaches down to the pit of your stomach, as if a burning coal was placed there.”

Elias nodded, nudging another patron away from the counter. Another group of Coterie entered, and the mage kept a weather eye on them as he moved closer.

“I can picture that,” Elias replied, banging the pitcher down on the counter. Corff jumped, then turned to him with a scowl. Elias smiled at him, then looked over to Pollyanna. They were nearly eye to eye, her green gaze barely looking up.

“I think Anders _really_ preferred lightning though,” he said, his smile widening at Pollyanna’s confusion. The door to the bar opened. “Polly, you really don’t know? Oh, Maker, it’s _fantastic_. Isabela once told me –“

Pollyanna grabbed Elias’ arm, interrupting him. His eyes widened as they stared at each other for a moment. The smell of copper wafted towards them from the opened door of the Hanged Man, and together they turned towards it.

A young woman, clearly another Hawke, walked through, scanning the scene of people before walking to their table. Elias and Pollyanna watched as she introduced herself to the others, taking a seat next to Dahlia with a wink and a smirk. Pollyanna looked back to Elias and released her grip on his arm.

“Blood mage?” she asked, green eyes pulled back to the woman. Her hair was up in a messy bun, nearly as red as Elias’. She wore a button-down shirt as well, but the cuffs were fastened, barely moving as she grabbed the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. Elias’ lips seemed lost in his beard, and his eyebrows furrowed. He turned back to the bar.

“Must be. And she clearly practices often, or we may not have noticed at all,” Elias said. He added another bottle of whiskey to the order and handed the bottle to Pollyanna. She took it without looking, a frown gracing her features. She reminded Elias of Knight-Commander Cullen in that moment; wary and prone to immediate distrust.

“Well!” Elias exclaimed, picking up the filled pitcher, “there is no use in being rude. She’s still a mage, and as far as I can tell, _not_ possessed. Plus, she’s a Hawke. I’m sure she’s plenty responsible.” 

Pollyanna nearly rolled her eyes, her gaze finally lifting from the blood mage to look at the ceiling.

“Right, because that is what they are. Responsible,” Pollyanna retorted, snorting lightly. Elias chuckled and pulled her arm through his.

“I think I just heard our favorite broody elf in your tone,” Elias teased. He laughed loudly at the blush that rushed to Pollyanna’s face.

“You _sly thing!_ This entire time we conversed, and you never mentioned that you and Fenris were bumping uglies,” Elias said, moving them slowly back to the table. Pollyanna scoffed, stiffening when Elias pulled her through the throng of people.

“ _Bumping uglies?_ Really, Elias. And no one asked. It’s not like I’m going to wear a sign,” Pollyanna replied, shaking her head at him as they approached the table. The newest addition to their table looked up at them, her blue eyes shining in recognition.

“Oh, good!,” the woman exclaimed, scooting closer to Dahlia and patting the bench, “And here I thought I may be the only mage here. My name’s Jessica.”

“Pollyanna. We were just getting some more refreshments,” Pollyanna said, taking in the flowing lines of Jessica’s tattoo. She tentatively say down, and Elias’ leg bumped into her arm as he leaned against the edge of the table, placing the pitcher down next to Decebal. Clove grabbed the handle before Decebal could reach for it, filling their mugs as they discussed broad swords. Elias watched them for a moment before turning to Jessica. The subtle scent of blood was more noticeable.

“Swill is more like it, but that’s how we prefer a Hanged Man’s drink, isn’t it?” Elias said, pushing out his hand. “Elias.”

“Jess,” she replied, grasping his hand carefully. A pulse of magic equalized between their fingers. If Elias wasn’t sure of her school of magic before, the sight of the hilt of a dagger hidden beneath her cuff was a dead giveaway. 

Jessica’s eyes widened as Elias leaned towards her, hovering over Pollyanna. He could tell that Pollyanna saw the blade when she tensed, leaning more against his leg.

“Why did you do it?” Elias asked, his voice hushed amid the cacophony of the room. Jess pulled her hand away, eyes straying to Pollyanna’s face for a moment. When she looked back to Elias, hard eyes greeted her. 

“I wanted to,” she replied, an odd smile playing on her lips. “It’s not a pretty school, I’ll give you that, but it’s _incredibly_ effective.” She watched the expressions of the two mages before her as they looked to each other. “What? Did you think I’d regret it?”

“Yes,” Pollyanna said, “Especially after seeing what it could do. Look what happened to Fenris, to mother? All caused by the use of blood magic.”

“Blood magic used by bad men,” Jess argued. She leaned towards Pollyanna, who barely managed to not move away. “Magic is in our very essence, and yes, it is dangerous. Whether you pull magic from the Fade or your own veins, it can kill, and we can be tempted.”

Her expression took on a look of arrogance, lidded eyes moving between the two mages.

“I chose this school on my own volition. I had the aptitude for Spirit Healing, but it proved inconvenient in the heat of battle, so I focused on a more precise, more controlled form of magic. Do not judge my choices on our terrible situations.”

When Jess finished her speech, she plucked the whiskey bottle cradled in Pollyanna’s hands and poured herself a large glass. She looked back to the mages when silence continued to answer her.

Elias looked chastened. Pollyanna did not. Jessica scoffed.

“You _must_ be with Fenris. Couldn’t convince him either,” Jess said. Pollyanna’s lips parted in surprise as Elias guffawed loudly, bumping her forward. Jess steadied her with a careful hand, smiling a close-lipped smile.

“I’m truly not so different from you,” Jess whispered to her. Pollyanna gave a small smile in return.

“You’re right. We are both stubborn and set in our ways.” 

When Elias’ chuckles subsided, Pollyanna filled glasses for her and Elias and passed one back to him. 

“Cheers,” Elias toasted. The mages clinked their glasses and drank.

-

Another hour passed, and the Hanged Man was busy. Decebal wrangled another table to butt against their current table, and Elias began a round of Wicked Grace with Clove and Pollyanna. Dahlia watched them, leaning over Pollyanna’s shoulder. She was more than a few glasses in, and her drink moved precariously between her fingers, a splash of whiskey sloshing around the bottom.

“What’s it like, Polly? Being with Fenris,” Dahlia asked, dark hair falling over her eyes. Pollyanna glanced at the girl falling over her shoulder. She scanned her hand and discarded.

She had a feeling that this would come up. Clove had warned her when Dahlia played a quick drinking game with Jessica and Decebal. _‘She had it bad for Fenris,’_ Clove had said. _‘Don’t be surprised if she brings it up.’_

She debated changing the subject, but when she looked back, the rogue’s expression was hopeful. She bit back a sigh.

“He is… intense,” Pollyanna explained, picking up another card, “he wasn’t sure of himself at first, but I persisted, even after he left me.” Dahlia pulled away from her shoulder, and Pollyanna turned to look at her. 

“Really? He left you,” Dahlia said, eyes focused over the mage’s shoulder. A roar of victory from Clove sounded, and Pollyanna smiled at her as she revealed her cards. A chorus of groans erupted at the sight of her hand. She watched the others down a shot of something, not what they had been drinking, and she quietly backed out of another round. She looked back to the rogue to see her finishing her drink.

“Why? Why did he leave?” Dahlia asked. The question was odd on the rogue’s tongue, as if she wasn’t sure who she asked, the mage or herself.

“I think he was scared,” Pollyanna explained, “after we made love the first time, he had a memory of his past life re-surface. Whether he left because of that or the intimacy or something else…” Pollyanna shrugged, “I can’t really say.”

“But he did come back?” Dahlia asked. She drank in Pollyanna’s words, desperate to hear more. The light of a torch shown against the mage’s golden hair as she looked to the ceiling, smiling fondly in memory.

“He asked for my forgiveness. Regretted ending things prematurely. It took him over three years to do so,” Pollyanna answered. Green eyes moved back to the rogue, head tilting. Her bangs moved to the side, and Dahlia noted the line of a tattoo over her forehead. She reached a trembling hand to those blond tresses, moving them softly away from the mage’s brow. 

Pollyanna allowed this, and noted that they were gaining some attention from the warriors across the table. She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat, moving carefully away from chilled fingers. 

“You had feelings for Fenris. Did you ever act upon it?” Pollyanna asked Dahlia, her hand brushing her half-filled glass. Dahlia’s eyes flickered to the table. The bottle of whiskey was in sight next to Jessica, who was watching another card game being played at another table. She slipped her arm under Jessica’s and swiped the remaining bottle without her noticing and opened the top. Pollyanna watched her debate pouring another glass before putting the bottle to her lips, taking a swig. Clove and Decebal, who had dropped their conversation to listen to the rogue, looked to each other when her sip turned into a mouthful.

“No. We never. We never went that far. Anywhere really, except maybe in opposite directions. I don’t know what happened,” Dahlia said. Her words were beginning to slur, and a strange light entered her eyes. Pollyanna gently grabbed the bottle and passed it to Elias, who was listening next to her. He silently took it and looked back at his game, folding his cards. Decebal moved to grab what was left of the ale and poured it into his and Clove’s mugs.

“What happened?” Pollyanna asked. She remembered her own experience with Fenris had been difficult, but it was her magic that posed the threat for her. Dahlia shrugged, spinning the empty glass in her hand.

“I don’t know. I think I wasn’t forward enough. I wasn’t focused, I…” Dahlia sighed, “I lost everyone in my world. Carver died. Bethany died in the Deep Roads. Mother. Isabela left me, halfway through my journey. After Anders died, I thought for sure Sebastian would stay with me, but even he left.” Dahlia had turned in her seat as she spoke, missing Pollyanna raising her hand to halt Clove from making any comments.

“What about Sebastian?” Elias asked. He reclined in his seat to see the rogue. Dahlia shrugged.

“After I came to terms with… a lot of things, I turned to the Chantry,” Dahlia explained, “Sebastian was always there, offering advice or willing to lend an ear. He was soft and consoling, and after the events that eventually lead up to the final battle, I needed that.”

Dahlia’s eyes lighted on Pollyanna’s drink. Pollyanna pulled the drink to her chest, swirling the liquid within. Clove leaned over, knocking into Decebal.

“Why did you want to marry him?” Clove asked, her voice soft. Dahlia’s eyes narrowed on the warrior.

“It was the one thing I thought was right to do at the time. We confessed feelings for each other, and he asked. I _thought_ I was about to wed a lifelong companion,” Dahlia spat bitterly. “Instead, he gave me an ultimatum –kill Anders for his destruction on the Chantry, or to only ever see him again as an adversary. Turns out, I lost the man I loved either way. He took back Starkhaven, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Jessica, who had been silent until now, whistled low.

“Tell me you did not kill Anders for that snob,” Jessica said, turning and pressing her arm against the rogue’s.

A cloud of silence fell on their table, and Dahlia looked back to seeing the group looking over towards them. Her eyes scanned each pair, taking in the expressions of surprise, anger, and even acceptance. 

“No! No, Anders was a great companion. I cared for him,” Dahlia exclaimed, eyes pleading as she looked to each Hawke. “What I did, I can’t take back, but at the time, Anders _knew_ what he had caused, and he could not go unpunished for the massacre he started.”

Decebal nodded towards her.

“I agree,” Decebal said. Clove turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. “What? He was dangerous, and crazier than you all said. He needed to be stopped.”

“How can you say that?” Elias asked, watching the warrior as he downed his ale. Decebal scowled.

“He may have been a friend to you, but in my world, he wasn’t Anders or Justice. By the end, I doubt he even knew his own name. He was _Vengeance_ in my world. A mage who went too far to help a friend and was consumed,” Decebal explained. His voice lowered by the end of his explanation, and Jess leaned further in to hear him. When he stopped, she scoffed and grabbed the bottle of whiskey out of Elias’ slack hands.

“Are you all going to tell me that you haven’t done something terrible on your journeys? We all had to make decisions, _hard_ decisions, and though I cannot _imagine_ a completely crazy Anders, this doesn’t make Decie’s choice wrong,” Jess said. Decebal bristled at the acquired nickname, but a tendril of relief passed through him, and he sat back as the others considered the mage’s words. Elias rubbed his chin, eyeing the ceiling.

“Well, I rejected both Anders _and_ Merrill’s advances. Now _that_ , that was a hard decision,” Elias murmured. A couple of groans and snorts answered, as well as an exasperated ‘Elias!’ from Pollyanna. “What? It was a difficult decision!”

“What made you stay away?” asked Dahlia, relaxed now that the death of Anders passed. Elias shrugged his shoulders, his hands skimming the edge of the table. Clove watched his hands, then looked him in the eye.

“You loved her, didn’t you? Ha, you did!” Clove exclaimed at Elias’ condemning silence. “You’re just like Isabela, flirting with anything that moves, but in the end, you want just one person.”

Decebal nudged Clove in the ribs. Clove pushed the warrior away with a grunt and stood up, swaying slightly as she moved towards Corff. Pollyanna went to follow her, hoping to add a less alcoholic drink to their order.

Jessica watched the two women leave before turning back to Elias. She pushed Dalia closer to the other mage, ignoring her sound of complaint. When Dalia moved to sit at the other end of the table, Jess slid into her spot, hand on her chin and a smirk on her face.

“Did you and Isabela stay together in the end?” Jess asked. Elias looked to her, eyes somber. Jess’ smirk faded as he shook his head.

“No. No, she left me a note. It was like dealing with the Qunari all over again, only with less expectation of her return,” Elias answered. Jess placed a hand over one of his, stilling its movement. He quirked an eyebrow, taking a brief scan at the others. When he realized that only she and Decebal were listening, he leaned in.

“Did she stay with you, then?” Elias asked. Jess cocked her head, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Yeah, she stayed with me.”

When no other explanation was forthcoming, Elias grabbed the hand over his. Jess looked up, smirking once more.

“What?” she asked.

“That’s all?” Elias whined, “No drama, no jilted lover on the side?”

Decebal let his back lean against the wall.

“Isabela did have a thing for Carver. And Fenris. Hell even –“

“Varric,” Decebal and Elias said together, earning a few chuckles. Jessica shook her head with each name.

“If you really want to know, it wasn’t Isabela that had feelings for someone else,” Jessica said, enjoying the surprised faces.

“Merrill?” Decebal asked. “She was a mage, too and open to all orientations. Or so she told me,” he finished, face hot when both mages looked to him curiously. When Jessica did not react, Elias frowned.

“You don’t mean…” he started, eyebrows lifting when Jessica nodded, lips curling.

“Our very own Guard-Captain,” Jessica answered. She grabbed Clove’s mug, still half-full on the table, and took a drink. She snapped her fingers in Decebal’s direction, startling him out of his gaped expression.

“Are you joking?” Decebal demanded. Jess lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“What can I say? I like full-bodied women. She has big hands, you see,” Jessica joked, spreading her fingers before her. Elias chuckled as Decebal mouthed, ‘big hands’.

“Did you let her know?” Elias asked. Jessica nodded, taking another sip of the pilfered ale. Clove and Pollyanna returned to the table as she spoke.

“During her _excruciating_ mating dance with Donnic, I let my feelings known. I don’t think she ever had another woman express interest for her. She seemed both flattered and confused. She even kissed me,” Jessica answered, her smile faltering. Clove thumped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, you took my ale!” she accused, moving to sit next to the mage. Jess rolled her head to look at the woman.

“Oops,” she replied as she finished the rest. Clove growled but relented when Decebal nudged her shin with a steel-tipped toe, grabbing the filled pitcher she brought over. He motioned for Jess to continue as Pollyanna sat beside him, grabbing his shoulder to steady herself. Jessica continued.

“I told Isabela, too, after a time. I didn’t want anything like that between us. I think she appreciated it. Before we knew it, we were depending on each other,” Jess explained, her smile returning.

“During the battle, she begged me not to die. I think it was at that moment that I realized how much I loved her. And we’ve been sailing around together ever since,” she finished, leaning back. Elias copied her movement, crossing his arms over his chest. It was good to hear that Isabela found someone, but the memory of her leaving pricked over his skin. He smiled.

“So you and our favorite pirate, huh? Wow. I would have paid to see that,” Elias said, winking. Jess stuck her tongue out at him and gave Decebal a light smack on the arm when he laughed in turn.

“Lechers, the lot of you!” Jessica groused. Clove chuckled next to her and pushed a filled mug to her. She turned her eyes to Elias.

“You and _Anders_ though,” Clove teased, “now that would have been worth seeing.” She laughed at Decebal’s scrunched face and clinked her mug with Jessica’s.

-

“You know,” Decebal started, eyeing the stairs leading to the private rooms, “I’m surprised Varric isn’t here. If any of our companions were to come back, it would be him.”

The table hummed. The amount of people occupying the bar had thinned, and tables that had groups were suddenly emptied save a drunk or two. The area around the Champions was left alone, those who typically sat there sitting at the bar. Clove leaned forward, glancing at the stairs and the door to Varric’s suite. It was closed.

“Varric loved Kirkwall, but he wasn’t crazy. It’s not even safe for us to be in Kirkwall.”

“We’re not in Kirkwall,” Jessica mumbled. They had stopped drinking liquor, but the effect of their drinking lingered. Jessica smirked at the warriors, face in both hands and elbows on the table.

Decebal’s eyes narrowed.

“Then where are we?” he asked. Jessica shrugged.

“ _Not_ Kirkwall. You think all of these Lowtown people survived the explosion or the massacre that followed? Hardly,” Jessica sniffed, lolling her head to the side.

“’s not the Fade, but it’s close,” she murmured. She exhaled loudly and shook her head. “I wish some of our friends were here,” the mage whined, pushing back on the table. She looked to Pollyanna, who moved to sit at the end of the bench. Pollyanna hummed in agreement.

“So do I. I wonder how Isabela fared. And Anders,” Pollyanna said, frowning. Decebal scoffed.

“Isabela is probably halfway to the Rialto Bay by now. Foolish woman,” he scorned, moving to take a drink from his mug. He bristled when Elias, who had come over to join their talk, pushed Decebal’s mug back down, hand covering the opening.

“Did you like _anyone_ , Decie?” Elias teased, grin widening when the warrior growled and pulled his mug out from under long fingers. Elias raised his arms in mock surrender, still grinning, and sat on the other side of Jessica, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. They both jumped when Dahlia appeared at the end of the table. She placed a water-filled glass on the table.

“Isabela was irresponsible in my world,” she said, twirling a dagger between her fingers. She looked better, having decided to stick to water.

“In fact,” she continued, spinning the blade faster, “I’d say that all of us had someone irresponsible in our worlds. Perhaps that person was even ourselves.”

Elias felt Jessica tense under his arm.

“Talk about it. Look at yourself, for example,” Jessica said to the rogue, a sharp light entering her eyes, “stealing from champions.”

Dahlia spun the blade a few more times before placing it on the table.

“If we were in my world, I would have kept it,” Dahlia murmured, hip against the table and arms crossed. “It was the reason Merrill and I didn’t get along.” 

“Did you get along with many of our companions, then? They all wanted something. You couldn’t have taken everything away,” Jessica retorted, eyes flickering between the rogue and her dagger. Dahlia shrugged.

“Aveline and Varric were my closest friends. Anders and Fenris were just companions. Sebastian was a little more.”

Jessica carefully took the dagger and placed it back in its sheath under her cuff.

“I hated Sebastian,” Jessica declared. Instead of silence, Decebal and Elias voiced agreement. She heard Pollyanna mutter _‘you would’_ under her breath. Jessica ignored her and continued.

“I got along with everyone except for Sebastian and Fenris. By the end of the journey, I think we parted respectfully,” Jessica explained. She turned to Clove. Clove raised her eyebrows.

“Me? I had no rivalries. No time for them,” Clove said, taking a sip of watered-down ale, “Isabela left, too, which pissed me off. I never met Sebastian. I had no relationship with Fenris; he nearly sided with Meredith at the final battle. And I was close with Aveline, Varric, Merrill, and Anders.” She smiled. “He was with me for nearly everything.”

“Did Justice ever interfere? With your relationship, I mean,” Jessica asked, voicing a question on all of the Hawkes’ minds. Did Justice even understand love?

“In the beginning, Justice was a problem. He thought of me as a distraction, which was true at the time.” She tilted her head to the side, remembering. “Once we were in a relationship, I could see that Anders had convinced them both that I helped more than hindered. They were completely melded by that time, but either way, I saw Anders more than Justice, even in battle,” she explained, finishing her drink in one swallow. She gestured to Decebal, knocking his arm with her mug.

“Enough about me. Decebal, your turn. Time to tell us the truth; your only friend was Merrill, wasn’t it,” Clove said, smirking. Decebal rolled his eyes.

“Merrill was _not_ my only friend,” the warrior protested. Elias and Jessica chuckled to themselves, and Decebal narrowed his eyes on them.

“Fenris and Aveline were my friends. Isabela like me well enough. I don’t need a bunch of people around calling themselves my friend when a few trusted people are enough,” Decebal said. He crossed his arms over his chest and spread his knees, feet flat on the floor. Clove rolled her eyes and lifted her hand to cuff him.

“You really weren’t friends with Varric, then?” Pollyanna asked. Clove’s hand retreated, just barely controlling it. She looked puzzled.

“How can you not like Varric? Everyone likes Varric,” Clove said. The other Hawkes made noises and motions of agreement.

“He was dependable and had an incredible amount of contacts,” Dahlia said, moving her weight to the other hip, “Was it his humor?”

“It was probably jealousy,” Elias jibbed, “that dwarf had an impressive thatch of hair on his chest. I bet you can barely grow facial hair.”

“How is this possible?” Decebal asked incredulously, holding in his anger towards the mage. It wouldn’t do to attempt murder on another Hawke. “Are you _all_ telling me that you became friendly with that smooth-talking dwarf? He had given us an opportunity we couldn’t refuse. He was a business partner, nothing more.”

Elias and Jessica made puppy eyes at each other, pronounced pouts on their lips. Jessica opened her mouth to speak, only to have Pollyanna grab her shoulder and silence her.

“I’m pretty sure you broke his heart with your attitude,” Pollyanna stated, green eyes cold. “After Bartrand’s betrayal, we were the one person he could confide in, to truly be close to.”

“What? We were not,” Decebal protested. “He had all of our companions at his beck and call. _All of them_ ,” he stressed. He jabbed the table with a blunt finger. “If I broke his heart, it was because I wasn’t the Champion he depicted in his stories, that’s all.” He sat back with a sneer. He was aware of his own stubbornness; it was hard to have it directed at him in five ways.

Dahlia moved closer to the warrior’s side, and Decebal fought to keep himself still. She wasn’t nearly as drunk as a few hours before, but he didn’t want anything stolen either. 

As if reading his thoughts, Dahlia rolled her eyes and reached into her front pocket, pulling out a small, wooden halla, and dropping it into his lap. She spoke over his outrage.

“Do you blame Varric for what happened to our siblings?” Dahlia asked. Pollyanna looked confused, as did Clove and Jessica.

“Carver went to the Templars. I didn’t bring him on the expedition,” Pollyanna said. Jessica nodded and Clove spoke up.

“Bethany went to the Circle in mine,” she said. Dahlia and Elias looked to each other.

“Did Carver die in your world, Elias?” Dahlia asked, Decebal momentarily forgotten. Elias shook his head.

“I brought Anders with me. We found some Grey Wardens in time. Stroud, if you all recall from the Qunari attack.”

“Bethany became a Grey Warden in my world,” Decebal commented. He shook his head. “I don’t blame Varric for anything. We simply didn’t see eye-to-eye.”

“I’m sure your attitude didn’t go well with him either,” Elias said, snorting. Decebal ignored him, glancing at the rest of the Hawkes.

“So, none of you disliked Varric in the slightest?” Decebal asked.

“Never,” they answered unanimously, smirking and laughing at each other. Decebal pouted, and Dahlia pattered his shoulder. She leaned against him, a hand in her back pocket.

“Don’t worry, Champion, we fortunately like you, too,” Dahlia teased, handing him the wooden halla she had just returned to him. Decebal threw his hands up.

“ _How_ are you _doing_ that?” 

-

The night continued, laughter and shouting occurring in intervals as the Champions continued to drink and converse. When the light of day began coming through the windows of the Hanged Man, it was Clove who stood up, bringing her mug up with her. Her eyes followed the Talking Man as he finally made his descent downstairs, and the others began standing with her, near-empty glasses and mugs in the air.

“Champions. It seems we made a fine choice in coming here tonight, at the end of our lines,” Clove started, eyes shining from alcohol, “May there be more Champions to come, and pray to the Maker that they get their own pow-wow.”

“Hear, hear!” Elias and Jess cheered, and the rest murmured their agreement as they clinked the last of their cups together, downing what sips and dregs were left.

Together they made their way to the door. Decebal shrugged on his jacket, striding ahead only to be pulled back by Clove hooking an arm around his neck, dragging him back with a laugh. Dahlia and Pollyanna, now the most sober of their fellows, trailed behind them, silent but comfortable. Dahlia tapped the small, halla-shaped bulge in her pocket. Elias and Jessica pulled up the end, both smiling. They moved in a mocking dance as Elias twirled her around, laughing together.

“We would have made a good team, you and I,” Jess said, grabbing his shoulder as she steadied herself. When they stopped, she moved a hand up to stroke his red beard. “Too bad we are essentially the same person.”

“That does put a damper on it, as well as our different proclivities,” Elias replied, moving them closer to their comrades. “Now, I noticed in our merry band that we had swords and magic and daggers. No archers or shields. Wouldn’t that have just _completed_ our group?”

As Elias asked the question, Clove moved to open the door, only to have it pushed gently open. The Champions moved closer to see the patron coming in for the last round.

Hazel eyes met theirs, and concern pinched the brow of the man who had just entered. Behind him, a dark-skinned woman frowned, light eyes flickering over them. The man smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice light, “I think I may be a bit late to a gathering. I’m Nolan Hawke.” He wore the armor of a Champion, but a bow with a sheath of arrows graced his back. The woman wore mercenary armor, and a sword and shield could be seen over her shoulder. Elias looked back to Jess, then looked back to the young man at the door.

“Sorry, I believe you may be too early,” Elias said. The others murmured their agreement, looking to the newcomers with secret smiles and grimaces.

“Yes,” Clove agreed, dropping a hand to the rogue’s shoulder, “You both are too early for this meeting.” Nolan looked at her with a furrowed brow, then nodded. The woman huffed and turned away.

“Alright. Another time then,” he said, then began walking away, going into a jog when the irate woman did not slow her steps. Clove looked to Decebal, who shrugged and walked away, waving. The others followed, until only Jessica and Elias remained. They watched Pollyanna turn to them with a smile, then disappear in the direction of the docks. Jessica’s eyes met Elias’.

“Another time, Hawke,” they said together and walked into the empty streets of Kirkwall.

**Author's Note:**

> I love all of my Hawkes, but Dahlia really lost everything in her playthrough T_T 
> 
> I haven't played Inquisition yet, so I don't know if Sebastian has any effect on the story, but with the way it ended, I took some liberties in assuming he left to take back Starkhaven.
> 
> The last two Hawkes were at the time, current and just-started playthroughs, my archer Nolan Hawke and my weapon-and-shield Ponoma. We shall see if they ever have their own little 'pow-wow'.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
